Chapter 24

Dante doesn’t know what it is about the boy—he’s not really much to look at, to be honest, a bit plain and pale. With that light hair the color of a deep blush wine, those freckles over his nose, he’ll never really tan, even if he spends the rest of his life out in the sun. He’s the type to burn and then peel, his skin pinked to pain and his freckles dissolving like dew in the morning sun. But he has strong arms, Dante likes that in a guy, he likes to feel safe and protected when he lies with someone, as if those arms and hands can keep the rest of the world at bay. And Dante can see in his eyes a smoldering anger at his accident, a stubborn streak that won’t let this get him down. He likes that fire, guttering low but still burning, he knowsRyan will walk again. He’ll skate again, and he’ll be better on the ice than before, he’ll be the best damn hockey player ever, Dante feels that in his heart as much as he feels his own Olympic dream.